


birthday

by buttercuppoisoning



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Birthday Cake, M/M, gay shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercuppoisoning/pseuds/buttercuppoisoning
Summary: It was quite a lovely day, embodied both in the weather and the occasion itself. A cake was baking away in the oven, coating the kitchen in the pleasant smell of chocolate and batter.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeamUmiZoomi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamUmiZoomi/gifts).



> thank you for being a meme and getting 30 on the pacer

“C’mon! Let me have a taste!”  
Currently, Simon Snow was fighting to dip a finger in a bowl of icing that Baz had nestled between his own arm and torso, wings fluttering, and the latter was fervently shoving him away. Anyone who didn’t know the two would probably assume it was a full-on argument, or a sibling’s fight, but it really wasn’t even quite a lovers quarrel. This kind of playful teasing and fighting was typical in their relationship, and both of them knew full well there was no ill intent contained in it, no matter how aggressive they got, though it wasn’t like they didn’t have boundaries. 

Baz momentarily took his hand away from the task of shoving Simon away to lift the spatula out of the bowl of icing and smack his boyfriend in the face with it, smearing chocolate frosting all over his face. Simon let out an indignant yelp and swiped some of the confection out of his eyes, glancing down at his now chocolate-covered hand. His fake pout quickly turns into a smile, and he glances up to meet Baz’s eyes before licking the frosting off his hand, then smearing the rest off his face and eating that too.

Baz rolled his eyes, setting the bowl of icing on the counter. “You eat like a pig,” he quipped, but Simon only threw a peace sign in his direction in response. Baz shook his head and returned to mixing the frosting, soon deciding it was done and sliding it out of the way. He untied his apron and folded it neatly on the counter, stretching his arms and sitting down on one of the stools set next to the kitchen table. The calendar had been marked in all the different tips of a multicolor pen, circled and highlighted with three colors of highlighter. Baz had simply marked it in black pen, but Simon had come back to decorate it himself, adding color to the plain black sharpie message of “Simon’s Birthday.” The sunlight streaming in through the window cast neat shadows on the hardwood floor, particles of dust glimmering in the shine.

It was quite a lovely day, embodied both in the weather and the occasion itself. A cake was baking away in the oven, coating the kitchen in the pleasant smell of chocolate and batter. The warm, peaceful aura of the whole place was a far cry to the terrible scent of moss and blood that the two had faced years ago.  
That was behind them. They were happy now, and Baz was determined to make it stay that way. He smiled, staring out the window, almost lost in the gentle atmosphere. Until Simon leaned around and smeared a glob of icing on his nose, of course. He whirled with an indignant yelp similar to the one Simon had made himself when he was attacked with the confection, and Baz stood up so quickly it almost knocked the stool over, rubbing at his nose. Simon laughed and quickly raced out of the kitchen, socks causing him to slide on the hardwood as he used the wall to push himself faster.

“You dick! You traitor!” Simon only laughed in response to the insult, continuing his escape.  
“It’s your fault for leaving the frosting unattended!” He looked back, winking with a glimmer in his eyes, and turned around, letting out a sharp yell as he nearly collided with the wall, slamming his hands against the surface to keep his face from meeting the same fate. Baz yelped and slowed down, but still ended up bracing one arm against the wall, face tilted back as to not hit Simon’s wings. They twitched, smacking Baz in the face (which he was at least 80% sure was not an accident) and Simon started to laugh again, despite having been about three inches from either a concussion, another head injury, or both. Baz only shook his head and stepped back- perfect timing, as the oven dinged from the kitchen. Simon eagerly pushed back from the wall, wings colliding with Baz again, and slid back off to the kitchen, skating along the hardwood like a child.

It was his birthday, Baz supposed. He could do whatever he wanted. So, with his own smile, he followed Simon into the kitchen, ready to pull out the cake with oven mitts in case Simon didn’t care to use them, which was expected. Burns weren’t his birthday present.  
“Happy birthday, Simon,” he called out, which was returned with his favorite laugh in the whole world.

“Thanks, asshole.”  
“You’re welcome, jerk.”


End file.
